Glimpses: A Collection
by raileht
Summary: A collection of random stories centering around Diane Lockhart and people from the firm. None of them are connected so this is a series of one shots.
1. Secret

**Glimpses: A Collection**  
by: raileht

**Summary:** A collection of short stories, some from a prompts we have in our board, some from a series I'm doing for fun. It depends—I'm picking through them, some I'll post here, some I won't.

**Disclaimer: **The ones you don't know are mine, the ones you do aren't.  
**Rating: **T, to be safe  
**Spoilers/Timeline:** it's pretty all over the place.

**Warning: **Bad writing…bad scenes…a few bad stuff. Don't know. I just write 'em. Some may even seem AU, some a little…er, impossible. It's basically just a bunch of crap put together, okay? They tumble into my mind, I write them and...well, it's up to you if you like them or not.

-o0oo0oo0o-

One  
(from a prompt with the keyword as "Secret")

**Secret**

"Good night, Diane."

"Good night, David," she smiled.

It was late, the office was empty, but for once, she was smiling. She hasn't smiled in a while, not like this and god, did it feel _good_.

But, of course, being her, that feeling and that smile wasn't bound to last.

"What do you think you're doing?"

She stopped and was glad she managed to suppress the urge to jump. She reached out, flicking on the lights and smirked, "Sitting in the dark. A little dramatic, don't you think?"

"I asked you a question."

"And I'm choosing not to answer it," she shrugged, "It's late, Will. I'm going home."

"Diane."

She ignored him, bypassing him as she went behind her desk, reaching for her bag and turning off the lamp on her table. She gathered the papers on her desk, meaning to leave them on her assistant's desk. She'd written in enough post-its for the instructions on what to do with them.

"Good night, Will."

"Diane, I'm talking to you. What the hell are you doing with David Lee?"

She stopped by the doors, letting her head hang for a moment before turning around to meet his hard stare.

"I never did _get _basketball," she said, shrugging slightly. "I mean, to me it was always like any other sport—bunch of guys, running around, passing a ball and dunking it where it needs to be dunked to score…basically, just guys acting like little boys fighting over a _ball_."

Will looked appropriately confused, "Wh-what are you talking about?"

"And you know what? My brother," she shook her head, "Didn't get the whole thing either so, he never played. I mean, he had friends, but, of course, since he didn't play, they just eventually stopped hanging out with him. And that was bad, for a while, but he _did _manage to find friends, you know, other guys who were like him—smart, different and incredibly into the things the jocks couldn't even spell if they tried."

"I don't get where this is going."

"I know," she smiled. "My brother couldn't fit in with the crowd he started out with and for a while, he tried but of course, still couldn't. He couldn't understand _why_, even after everything. He just didn't like basketball…it bothered him for a while, but in the end he saw reason."

She paused.

"He realized he _couldn't_ fit in because he…_didn't_ belong."

"What…"

"Things change, Will," Diane said. "And sometimes…things don't always change for the better…for everyone."

"Diane…"

"I stopped fitting in a long time ago," she shrugged, "but that's okay."

Will stared, wondering if he was missing anything, wondering if perhaps he was dealing with something he hadn't foreseen or expected. He was at a loss on what to say—he couldn't even understand what she was talking about.

"I still don't understand."

Diane smiled, but not in a way that comforted him. Her smile was ominous, eerie even and he'd seen it before. She'd never smiled that way to him, never because, as far as he knew…

Whenever Diane smiled like that, someone was bound to go down and it was usually the person she used that smile on.

"That's okay too, Will," she said, coming into the room, taking each measured step towards him and leaned in close, her mouth next to his ear and whispered,

_"It'll be a cold day in hell before I let you take me out."_

Will froze, swallowing slightly. It wasn't the menace dripping like acid that made his blood run cold, nor was it the words she chose.

It was the softness of her whisper, the way it seemed louder than if she'd screamed at him. Something in her voice told him that this time, once she started, there was no going back, no apologies to be made over drinks, no laughter in the night.

And it scared the hell out of him.

"If there is anything more I hate than people I trust _lying _to me," her eyes darkened, green eyes piercing his brown ones. "Its people I _trust _keeping secrets from me."

"Diane, I…" something told him this was the time to tell her the truth, tell her everything.

She shook her head at him, still smiling that damned smile.

"It's okay, Will. You and Derrick keep playing…don't worry about me," she turned her back on him, heading towards the door, only to stop again though this time, she didn't face him.

"I've got other friends too."

Then she walked away, the clicking of her heels fading with each step she took and Will stood there in her empty office, wondering if he'd done the right thing by keeping his mouth shut.

He tried to ignore the heavy beating of his heart and the way he'd begun to subconsciously curl his fists up to the point he'd begun digging his nails into his own skin, nearly drawing blood. He ignored everything, even the instincts that told him to do something _now_, after keeping silent for the last few months.

Will ignored everything, everything except the voice, telling him one thing, over and over again.

Diane was going to make him pay.


	2. Empty

**Glimpses: A Collection**  
by: raileht

**Summary: **A collection of short stories, some from a prompts we have in our board, some from a series I'm doing for fun. It depends—I'm picking through them, some I'll post here, some I won't.

**Disclaimer: **The ones you don't know are mine, the ones you do aren't.  
**Rating: **T, to be safe  
**Spoilers/Timeline:** it's pretty all over the place.

**Warning:** Bad writing…bad scenes…a few bad stuff. Don't know. I just write 'em. Some may even seem AU, some a little…er, impossible. It's basically just a bunch of crap put together, okay? They tumble into my mind, I write them and...well, it's up to you if you like them or not.

-o0oo0oo0o-

Two  
(from a prompt with the keyword as "Empty")

**Empty**

At a little over one in the morning, a woman stood by a large window, arms wrapped around herself, pensive green eyes observing the city below her. On the street, there were still a few late night stragglers, most probably heading for home from what could have been a long day. For them, their day must have been ending, for her, well, she was simply _done_.

There was nobody left at the office, save for the graveyard shift guards and the night janitor and, as usual, she was used to it. Late nights had always been a specialty of hers. The peace helped her work better, faster and with more efficiency than being constantly interrupted in her office in the day time.

But, then again, tonight was an altogether different matter.

There were no folders left open on her desk, no papers waiting to be signed, no case files waiting to be read. In fact, there was _nothing _on her desk. No pen, no paper, no clip and, most definitely, no sign of work done or waiting to be finished.

She turned away from the window, eyes scanning the room, taking in the bareness, rebuilding everything in her mind's eye, placing things _back _where they used to be, if only just in her mind. If it could be that easy, if somehow, she could just put it all back with one glance, she would.

But no, that was not to be. Not for her, not when she'd already made her choice.

She'd made her choice a _long _time ago. The end just took it's time to get here, bring her here, if only for the last time. Yes, the very last time.

"It won't be the same without you."

She wasn't surprise to hear his voice, to find out he was still in after all.

"Of course not," she said simply.

"I'm…"

"Please, don't," she shook her head, turning back to the window though this time, she directed her eyes to the mild outline of his reflection on the glass, not too far from her own. "Spare me."

"This wasn't supposed to happen…not _this_."

"And yet, here we are," she said evenly, expertly concealing the bitterness she still felt towards him.

She was bitter, yes, she was. In fact, she was angry—_very _angry, but she wouldn't show him. She wouldn't show anyone. Why should she give them that satisfaction, after everything?

They'd taken enough.

"When I…" he stepped into the room, hands in his pockets if only to hide the way they were shaking now. "When I made that deal…I didn't…this was _not _supposed to happen."

She nodded, "Again. Here we are."

"Diane…"

She shook her head, "Don't, Will."

"If I'd _known_—"

"You did," she said, this time letting a sneer slowly curl her lips. "In the back of your mind, you _knew _this could happen. You _knew_, Will."

"I didn't—"

"You lied to my face," she said, though her voice remained passive. "Not once, not twice…over and over, you lied. For _months_…" she stopped, "It doesn't matter now. What's done is done."

Will swallowed, his throat suddenly feeling dry, "I thought it would be best for the firm."

"And it was," she nodded, "You did it, Will…you saved _your _firm."

"But—"

"_I_ was the casualty, yes," she nodded, "Not that it matters. It's just business after all, isn't it?"

"When Derrick—"

She shook her head, "It's done, Will. It's over."

"I'm sorry."

"For what?" she asked, challenging him, "Do you even _know _what you're sorry for?"

"For…" he began, only to stop, unable to decide just where to start.

Diane smirked, "I thought so."

With one last look at the city, she moved away from the window, grabbing her purse and her coat that she'd left draped on what used to be her chair. She brushed past him, making sure they wouldn't touch and headed out without looking back.

Will stayed, unable to follow, knowing it was indeed too late.

Diane stopped, in the middle of the hall, looking at his office, still glowing bright with his lights left on then turned towards hers, where the lights had been turned off. From where she stood, she could see him standing where she'd left him, in her now empty office, in the darkness.

She tore her eyes away from him, shaking her head slightly as she walked away, turning her back on him and heading towards the elevators. For once, she was heading out as simply a person, not a partner, not someone's boss there, not even someone's mentor.

Diane would have that, but not there, not anymore. She had another place now, another home and this time, it would be her own, shared with people she could truly trust, people who shared her views and wouldn't let something like this be done to her. No, she would be in control and she would be surrounded by handpicked people, people who wouldn't betray her the moment they got the chance.

There was trust, where she was going and, just for that, Diane knew she was going to be okay.

So she stepped into the elevator, pressing the button for the doors to close and, for one last time, catching glimpse of the new shiny label mounted on the wall right across the hall.

**_Bond & Gardner_**

Diane swallowed slightly, blinking a few times and pulled out a small card from her pocket, staring at it and, again, familiarizing herself with the new words printed on them. She was still burning them into her mind.

__**_Lockhart & Associates_**

With an end, there was a new beginning.


	3. No 667

**No. 667  
**by: raileht  
**  
****Disclaimer: **The ones you don't know are mine, the ones you do aren't.  
**Rating: **T, to be safe

**Spoilers/Timeline:** nothing specific except Kurt's here.**  
Warning: just my usual brand of crap.  
**

**Note: **This one is from a series I've been working on for a while now, but I've only been posting them in the Christine Baranski Community. I never planned on bringing this here, but a (new-ish...?) friend of mine noted that there really is a lack of TGW fics here, especially ones with Diane Lockhart so I thought, what the heck?

Of course, I asked the opinion of my friends-Ellie and MarySunshine-and they thought a "pilot" chapter would be okay. If you guys like this one, I've got plenty more and all you have to do is let me know if this is worth posting _here_.

I call this group _The Esquire Serie_s because basically, this is a series of one-shots where the ideas were taken from _Esquire's list of 1000 Things Men Don't Know About Women But Should_.  
All the stories will be centered on Diane, of course, but possibly with different male characters—yes, its open season on our favorite partner. I have some with Will, maybe a couple, but those were the earlier ones...now, it seems as if this series is more Diane/Kurt (aka McHart) centered than anything else.

So, read on and if you like this one, I'll post more. A little feedback wouldn't hurt you guys, really. If you don't comment or at least let me know you like this then I'll assume this was a bad idea and delete this chapter and we can pretend this never happened.

Good luck.

-o0o0o0o0o0o0o- 

**No. 667: Don't feel threatened when other men chat us up. If you have a good woman on your hands, there's nothing to worry about. Believe us.**

Diane Lockhart was upset.

As far as she knew, her night was supposed to be a good one, considering the pains she took in planning it to the best of her abilities. From the right dress to the right date, she'd made sure the night would have more potential of being good rather than the mess it was slowly unraveling into as she drank her second glass of wine of the night.

She'd been saddled with yet another gala, this time for a local charity involved with helping homeless and abused children. The cause was something she cared about so she'd agreed to buy a table for six, intending to invite people along to sit with her. It was the least she could do, she thought, considering how the firm had been rapidly getting back on its feet, recovering from the slump they'd gone through after Jonas Stern's departure.

In total, Diane had bought six tickets and gave two to Will and whoever he was currently "dating"—she had long since given up tracking his roster for flavor of the month—as something of a silent peace offering for the tension that had grown between them through everything that's happened and sent a couple to her friend. Will had, of course, agreed to bring a date, the same sports writer he seemed quite intend on sticking with after the latest whatever that happened between him and a certain associate in the firm.

Diane wasn't privy to the whole story, but she was pretty sure whatever it was had not ended well. She'd never seen Will quite so hung up and serious about a woman, especially not with someone he hadn't even had a real relationship with and it was interesting for her to watch him struggle with something that was obviously alien to him.

She wouldn't go as far as think he'd had his heartbroken, but in Will-speak, it must have been pretty damned close to that already, the way he was reacting to the situation and the woman in question.

He was overcompensating with his "rebound girl", going to lengths such as letting her visit while hand-holding clients and engaging in public displays of affection. Diane didn't mind, as long as it didn't affect their cases so she left him to his own devices. His ego, to the best of her observation, had been crushed and now he was showing everyone, including the person who'd most likely "wronged" him, that he was fine and doing better than ever. Diane didn't want to be cruel, but it was amusing to see another side of her partner.

The _girl_ he was dating, the sports writer—Diane could not remember her name, for some odd reason—was the complete opposite of the woman who'd driven Will into her arms. She didn't like lawyers, didn't like talking about cases and anything involving his job _and_ tended to periodically check the scoreboards online to see what team was winning where.

She was what Diane would categorize as a guy's girl, someone she could imagine got along well with guys as if she really was one of them. She was amusing enough and Diane didn't mind sharing a dinner with her. She tended to shed a different light on Will who was, at the moment, trying to seem like the perfect playboy with her on his arm, lest she mock him for being "such a girl" as she'd once remarked when he'd behave differently. That had made Diane laugh even when she hadn't meant to.

Will gave her the evil eye while the girl just smiled into her drink.

As for the other tickets, Diane had given them to Bethany Abbott, an old friend of hers from another law firm. They'd gone to law school together and had remained friends since then.

She hadn't been able to get a ticket so Diane thought she would be perfect to bring along to her table as they always had the best conversations, especially since Bethany seemed to have a somewhat sick fascination when it came to annoying the hell out of Will. Diane didn't know why she liked playing with Will, but she didn't mind.

Of course, Will always hated her for it, but what could he do? Diane liked a good show and watching Bethany continue to poke and prod him was a hell of an entertainment. The fact that Bethany never failed to bring a date—she'd declared herself _joyously unattached and forever damned_—was also a fabulous plus since she seemed to have the most interesting men on call, some of them even married, but nobody seemed to care.

The last time Diane and Bethany got together, her date had been a Senator, someone with whom Diane had clicked with and had engaged in conversation the whole night while ignoring Bethany as she mocked them and called them idiots for even thinking the new president was going to turn things around. Bethany was a Democrat for the most part, but also claimed to be a "tainted" one and was forever cynical when it came to politics, never believing things could be better though she barely cared herself half the time.

Diane thought she'd be a great addition to her table, especially since she was bringing a date herself but Bethany had canceled at the eleventh hour and _that_ should have tipped Diane off, she thought miserably now as she observed what was happening at her table. She should have known Bethany Abbott would pull something like this.

Emergency my ass, Diane had scoffed when she got the message from Bethany two days before and, after checking her phone only minutes ago, she'd gotten her confirmation via voicemail.

_"You didn't think I'd forgotten about the Senator, did you, darling?" _the bitch had cackled uproariously in the recorded message. _"Payback_ is _a bitch, isn't it? Enjoy, doll. I may not be there, but you know it'll be so bad you'll tell me all about it in the morning while I stay at a safe distance, away from your vengeful claws. Ta." _

Bethany had forwarded her tickets to a friend all right and that friend had turned out to be none other than Malcolm Overby, the last person Diane had wanted to encounter at the gala. She had heard he was coming, but hadn't been aware _she_ would be the one buying his ticket.

Bitch, she seethed silently. Bethany had planned the whole thing.

On her table, Will sat across from her, his date next to him though he had an evil little smile on his face as he looked at Diane. On her right was her date for tonight, Kurt who had just come in from Philadelphia for a case while on her left was Malcolm and his date. The table was small, perfect for intimate conversations during meals and Diane _hated_ it.

It would have been fine had Diane been able to prepare _and_ had she not told Kurt of her recent history with Malcolm. Of course, Kurt had shrugged it off even when she sat stunned next to him when Malcolm stopped at their table, ticket in hand.

Kurt seemed fine with the switch and had even been the first to welcome the newcomers to their table, making polite conversation as he went. He'd had no reason to feel threatened when it came to him when Diane had assured him long ago that she had no other feelings but contempt for the slimy bastard who had dared toy with her and lie to her face.

But that was at least half an hour ago, when everything was easy and Diane was still recovering from the shock about who came to dinner and Will had steadily begun to perk up while Kurt stood back, watching the whole thing unfold before him as introductions were made.

Malcolm introduced his date, a younger blonde who worked at his firm while Diane introduced Kurt and left Will to introduced his paramour who made a funny crack about being stuck with a room full of lawyers and proceeding to make an amusing motion as if she was going to hang herself. She may not be like them, but Diane had been grateful that she somehow managed to adjust the suddenly awkward mood when everyone laughed along.

From then, dinner had begun with everyone at the table chatting amiably and Diane let herself relax a little when it seemed Malcolm was behaving himself and Kurt didn't seem to mind the bomb that Bethany had dropped. Will looked on, smiling at her now and then though it wasn't a supportive smile—he was enjoying himself far too much for that.

Diane shot him a glare and proceeded to give him a smug smile when Malcolm engaged Kurt into a conversation about his work, thinking perhaps that the two would be able to get along after all. So, she sat back and said a silent thanks to the gods.

But then, things changed. When or how, she had no idea.

She had missed the beginning, but later she noticed Malcolm had begun to completely ignore his date and had, without her noticing, positioned his seat closer to hers. He'd continually engaged her in conversation even when she wasn't looking at him, taking advantage of the fact that by some odd chance, she'd been seated next to him and she couldn't publicly act out her still negative feelings toward him for fear of causing a scene. Whenever there was a lull, he would try and grab her attention, talking to her and starting up topics he knew she would go with and Malcolm was grinning toothily like the schmuck that he was, ignoring everyone else at the table while focusing his attention on a grudgingly polite Diane and Kurt sat back, watching the two with hooded eyes.

Every now and then, Diane would feel Will grinning in her direction and a brush of the tension that was mounting slowly beside her, on her date's side. She tried to include him in conversation and had even moved her chair away somewhat and sat closer to him, but Malcolm only moved closer.

In the back of her mind, she wondered just how ridiculous they might look—a round table, divided somewhat in two with one side having her caught in between two men while Malcolm's date had been abandoned next to Will who was busy with his giggling girlfriend. Diane was sure he'd told her what was going on and was having their share of laughs at her expense.

"I should thank Bethany," Malcolm said smoothly as he took a sip of his wine. "It was thoughtful of her to send me the tickets."

"Yes, thoughtful," Diane echoed somewhat robotically as she surreptitiously placed a hand on Kurt's knee under the table, if only to reassure him. To her dismay, he moved his leg, dislodging her hand and shifted in his seat, moving a little away from her.

She was going to murder Bethany.

"And I have to say," Malcolm held up his glass and leaned forward a little, looking at Kurt, "Excellent choice, Mr. McVeigh. _This_ is perfection."

Kurt had chosen the wine, which surprised Diane as she'd never quite imagined he knew or cared about them, but Malcolm hadn't been lying then. He _had_ picked an excellent wine, one of the best from the list that was allowed their table. Diane had thought nothing of it, but seeing him now, she should have known it had been a sign already.

He had needed to assert his dominance in the situation, as if letting Malcolm or anyone else choose the wine would change her perception of him. She had felt her ex's interest in her, felt him watch her and want to get closer to her, but she had done nothing to show she was returning his interest.

Kurt merely nodded as he took a sip from his glass while Diane looked away from both men, avoiding Will's eyes as she scanned the room lazily.

She finished her perusal and turned to her date, giving him a lingering look that told him she was aware of his behavior and tried to mentally communicate with him and let him know just how unnecessary it was. He had no reason to be jealous, after all, and she hoped she could make him believe that.

He knew very well what she felt towards Malcolm, but that wasn't stopping him from acting the way he was acting that night. He was openly withdrawn and showing signs of hostility towards Malcolm, not quite making a secret of the disdain he so clearly felt towards the schmuck who, like him and Will, was dressed in a tux though he quite failed to look as respectable and polished as them both.

"Diane, this must have cost a fortune," Malcolm continued, smiling as if he wasn't feeling the tension from the man next to Diane. "You really should let me pay you back sometime."

From across the table, Diane could swear she heard Will choke in his drink, sending his date into a fit of barely suppressed laughter that she smothered behind her hands like a child. Beside her, she felt Kurt tense at the blatant flirtation.

"No, no," she said airily, leaning closer to Kurt and waved a dismissive hand. "It was for a cause so, really, it's nothing."

"But I _must_ insist," Malcolm continued, leaning close enough for her to get a whiff of his cologne. "It's the least I could do for such a lovely dinner."

Diane shook her head, "No, thank you. I don't think that would be possible."

"Oh?"

She smiled a little and placed a hand on Kurt's arm, "Yes, you see…I'm terribly busy these days. But thank you."

From across the table, Will raised a glass in her direction as Malcolm's face fell a little and Diane turned towards Kurt, this time, more open to showering him her complete attention.

The rest of the night went with the couples focusing more on each other than their companions.

-o0o-

They sat in the car in silence.

He's driving because she's drank more than him and she thinks he deserves to at least have the illusion of being the one in control. She was never the type to cater to the male ego, but she would tonight after a less than successful dinner. Malcolm had done a number on them that night and she wasn't surprised he wasn't in the mood to talk even though the more defensive part of her felt she had done nothing wrong—which was true—but she didn't feel like starting a fight, not when she wasn't too sure of just how he felt about the entire affair.

Kurt was mad at Malcolm, that was for sure, but Diane wasn't sure if he was mad at _her_. She'd done nothing to encourage the attention Malcolm had been insistent on bestowing upon her, but she'd had enough experience in relationships to know that whether she was at fault or not, she couldn't predict how a person would react or feel, especially with Kurt who had basically become the king of passive-aggressiveness that night.

"Are you going to speak to me or should I just start a conversation with myself to fill the silence?" she asked, keeping her voice level to make sure she didn't sound like she was provoking him.

"I don't know what's going on between the two of you," Kurt replied, keeping his eyes on the road.

The stars were out that night and it would have been a nice drive, had the dinner gone well. She'd been tempted to book a room for them at the hotel where the gala had been held. Their suites were known to have one of the best views of the city.

"With who?"

"The pink elephant," he said sarcastically, "With that damned Overby, who the hell else?"

Diane was tempted to return with just as much amount of sarcasm, but she held herself back, reminding herself once again that while he was being openly hostile now, _this_ wasn't really him. He was being fueled by his emotions, mainly by his jealousy and this was a first for them both.

"The answer to that would be _nothing is going on_," she said simply, "Not with me and Malcolm anyway and, I have to honestly say, you're ridiculous for even thinking so."

"I'm being ridiculous?" he echoes, glancing at her before looking at the road again. "_He_ was all over you all night!"

"And I was all over trying to move away from him," she pointed out.

"Look," he began and she watched his hands curl tighter on the wheel, tight enough that his knuckles were beginning to turn white. "If you want to see other people, if you're intending to see other men, I won't blame you."

She stared at him, stunned for the second time that evening, "What are you talking about?"

"I'm saying if you wanna go out with someone else, someone you have more in common with, fine," he shrugged nonchalantly though she could see the tension in his demeanor and hear it in his voice, "But you have to tell me and tell me _now_. Don't play with me, don't parade anything in front of me like you did tonight. We're too old for all this high school bullshit."

"Excuse me?" she said, sounding indignant now because this time, she wasn't about to hold herself back. "Do you hear yourself right now?"

"He was all over you, everywhere, touching, talking, staring and being just a fucking ass all night," he rumbled. "And hell, if you want that, go ahead—just don't string me along, Diane. I don't play the fool for anyone."

"Were you even at the same dinner?" Diane asked, leaning forward in her seat and unlocking her seatbelt for more movement. "_He_ was the one who wouldn't let up—I did _nothing_ to encourage his advances and, if I may recall, _I_ turned him down."

"But that sure as hell didn't stop him."

"And that's my fault how?"

"Well, you must have done something to make him think he had a chance with you again."

"Kurt…"

"And I know he's more your type and I won't blame you, maybe you still feel something for him, but right in front of me? Goddamn it, Diane."

"Kurt!"

"I mean, how am I supposed to know _you_ didn't invite him yourself!"

"Don't," she said, visibly angry this time, "Don't you dare."

He stopped and so did she, still too stunned to say anything else as she stared at him. He refused to look at her and she couldn't find the words to say. She watched him, wondering what happened between getting jealous and basically telling her it might be over between them.

"Put your seatbelt back on," he said quietly.

"No."

"Diane."

"Almost home," she said simply, sitting back and this time, looking away from him as she focused her attention outside and realizing they were closer to her house than she thought. His car was still in her garage after she'd insisted on taking hers that night. His keys were in the house, on the foyer and she wondered if he would grab them himself or if she would hand them to him instead since the chances of him staying over were getting slimmer and slimmer.

They reached her house in silence and he parked her car just outside and the space was large enough for his vehicle to back out. Diane took that as a sign and shook her head, throwing her door open and not waiting for him to open it as he usually did. She slammed the door, something she never did to her precious Cadillac, but she was too angry at the moment to care.

Pulling her keys out and ignoring him completely, she opened her front door, leaving it open behind her as she headed up towards the stairs that would lead to her bedroom. "Your keys are where you left them," she said over her shoulder without looking at him.

"Diane," he called after her, but she ignored him and went on.

She heard him close the door and thought he'd gone, but instead, heard him follow behind her. He reached her just as she turned towards her room and she guessed he skipped steps to get to her.

She didn't care.

"I'm sorry," he said just as she reached her bedroom door.

Diane didn't move, and instead, stared at the door in front of her.

"I'm sorry," he said again, "I…"

"I didn't do anything wrong," she said quietly. "You're punishing me for something _I_ didn't do."

"I know," he said and she could imagine him nodding and looking sorry, "I was an ass. I'm sorry."

Her heart is pounding and she was only noticing it then, but she turned around anyway and faced him, "He was too attentive, too forward and was too much of a schmuck. So what?"

While him showing his jealousy was a first for them, experiencing men paying attention to her wasn't. He'd seen it before, even witnessed her unintentionally charm people at parties just by being herself and he'd been unperturbed by it, seeing as she never showed any signs of being interested in anyone else. In fact, watching from afar, he'd been visibly amused the display because he knew who he was to her and knew she was above that type of behavior. He knew he'd managed to put some power over her and knew she was serious about their relationship.

"I just…I wasn't prepared for that," he said simply, "I thought we were going to have a good night, that's all. I expected something else, definitely not Overby showing up."

She nodded, leaning back against the door with a nod, "That was Bethany's doing. I really had no idea."

Diane forced herself to look at him and immediately, their eyes met. She could see his remorse and even a hint of shame for his behavior. She made herself relax, giving him a clear signal that she was open to talk things out at that moment.

"I know," he nodded, "I never thought you did, that was all me. I'm sorry."

"I've never given you reason to think I was interested in anybody," she said, "Let alone Malcolm and I explained to you what happened between us, what I feel about him. You had no reason to feel threatened and it's not like you to feel threatened by anyone…what's going on?"

"Nothing," he said, shaking his head as he looked away.

"There's something."

"Nothing," Kurt replied, "It's just…"

"What?"

"It wasn't a good thing to come back to," he said simply, "I hadn't seen you in two weeks and then I walk right into…_that_. Where does that leave me, Diane?"

She stared at him, "It leaves you…acting like a boorish jealous jackass and it makes you say 'fuck' and, as far as I know, you don't say that word or, at least, you've never used that around me. Do you kiss your mother with that mouth?"

"This isn't a joke," he said seriously.

"I know," she nodded. "So tell me what's going on because I'm asking you now, Kurt."

"It's stupid."

"It can't be," she replied, "Not when it's turning you into this…this isn't you."

Kurt stared at her before nodding slowly, shifting from one foot to the other and began to speak.

"You…you both just seemed to…_fit_," he said, clearly struggling to find the words to what he was trying to say. "I mean, right from the beginning, even when you're trying to ignore him, to show how uninterested you are with what he's saying, you two still look like you…fit. You conversation flows, you believe in the same things, you…I don't know, the more I saw the two of you, the more it looked like you…"

"I what?" she asked gently, wondering where all this was coming from and wondering how she could miss him feeling this way. Everything had _seemed_ fine up until tonight.

"It just looked like you would be better off with someone who has more things in common with you," he finally answered, looking at her seriously.

Diane stared at him for a moment then shook her head, "Kurt—"

"You know what?" he stopped, raising his hand to stop her. "Forget it. I'm sorry. I'll go."

He turned to leave, but she pushed herself off the door and said, "Kurt, wait."

"Diane, forget it—"

"No," she said sharply and that was enough to make him turn to her. She continued, this time, returning to a more softer tone in her voice, "If…if I wanted to be with someone else, someone I had more in common with…I mean," she stopped, "It would seem easier, right?"

He nodded, reluctantly and she could see the hope die in his eyes.

"Maybe if I had someone who believed in what I believed in," she shrugged, "That's what you think, right? That I would be better off that way?"

"Yeah," he nodded, his eyes never leaving hers.

"So, what do you want?" she asked, "Are you saying you want to…give up? Go our separate ways? Let me find someone I click with, someone who will agree with me? Is that what you want?"

"I want what's best for you," he said and she knew he meant it.

"And what _is_ best for me, Kurt?" she asked.

"Someone who'll make you happy," he shrugged.

"Happy," she nodded slowly, "And happy would be if I find a man who'll agree with anything I say, who won't challenge me? That's your view on what happiness is?" She smirked, "Well, I'm disappointed…for a smart guy, I never knew you had such shallow beliefs on what happiness is."

Kurt stared at her, standing frozen like a statue as she came near him.

"Listen to me," she said, coming closer to him and raising a finger in his face, "Because I will only say this _once_, mister—if I wanted to be with someone I had more in common with, someone who believed in the same things I did, I would have had someone a _long_ time ago."

She stood in front of him, still dressed in her red evening gown that had left him feeling a little light headed upon first glance. He couldn't blame Overby for wanting to get his hands on her, but he could sure as hell hate that bastard for it. But now wasn't the time to think about how beautiful she looked that night, he thought, not when their relationship was going down the drain like this.

"I never liked easy or someone who would say yes to everything I say," she said, shaking her head. "And you, Kurt McVeigh, are the last man who will say yes to _everything_ I say and _that_ is what _I_ want and I don't give a damn what I think is best for me because, honestly, I don't even know what the hell that is."

"I don't want to play games," he said gruffly.

"Who's playing?" she asked, raising an eyebrow at him then smiled, slipping her arms around his neck and looking him in the eye. "He doesn't mean a thing to me…at best, he's a two-bit shyster who did poorly in his SATs and needed daddy to help him out…believe me, he's nothing to me."

"Then what were you doing with him before?"

"I needed something to amuse myself with," she shrugged, "Until something better came along."

"Then what are you doing with me?" he asked, "Still waiting?"

Diane smiled, resting her head beside his, her temple on his cheek and breathed in his cologne deeply, "No, not anymore." She chuckled a little, "You've turned my world upside down, McVeigh…and yes, we're going to drive each other crazy, but you make my life interesting."

"I do?"

"Mhm," she nodded. "And I can't go back to that other life—it was too quiet. So, believe me, you're not going anywhere anytime soon."

"I'm not."

"No, you know why?"

She felt him breathe in, "Why?"

"You make me happy," she said simply, "Now, put your arms around me and tell me you're sorry for behaving like you dropped fifty spaces down the evolutionary ladder."

"I'm sorry I acted like a caveman," he said with a laugh. "But I couldn't help it."

"Of course you couldn't," she smiled, pulling back to look at him when she felt his arms go around her waist, holding her close.

"Why don't we do something about it?" he said.

"Like what?" she asked, curious now.

"I know I work out of town a lot," he said, "And I really do hate not knowing what you're doing…who you're with…"

"Wow," she snorted, "Controlling much?"

"Yeah, I'm a Neanderthal," he shrugged, "But I'm serious, Diane."

"Okay," she said, pulling back a little but he refused to let her go. "What do you want?"

"I don't like being apart," he said honestly, his voice dropping an octave lower. "And you're the most interesting woman I've ever met…you make it impossible to stop thinking about you. You're incredible."

She rolled her eyes, "Stop it. I've forgiven you already."

"It's not about forgiveness," he shook his head, holding her tighter and pulling her about a fraction closer. "I can't take my eyes off of you, Diane...and I don't want to."

"What…what are you saying?"

"I'm saying…" he smiled, for the first time since the night began with Malcolm. "I don't want to be far from you, not anymore."

"Then stop leaving town, cowboy," she said with a smile, ignoring how her heart was beginning to pound again though this time for an altogether different reason. "I'm right here."

"And that's where I want to be," he replied then took a deep breath and let it out slowly before continuing, "Move in with me."

Diane froze and her eyes grew wide, "What?"

Kurt let one arm fall away, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a key, "Move in with me."

"You're serious."

"I am," he nodded.

"Move in with you," she echoed. "If this is about Malcolm, this is a horrible way to ask."

He chuckled, shaking his head and returning both his arms around, the key still held in one hand, "Yeah, the schmuck comes in, I ask you to move in and I just happen to have a key ready for you…right?"

Diane giggled a little, "Right."

"So, what do you say?" he asked, leaning close, "You chicken, Lockhart?"

She stared at him, narrowing her eyes, "You _did not_ just call me a chicken."

"Are you?"

"No," she said, pushing his arms off from around her and swiping the key neatly from his hand, "Fine."

She kissed him but then suddenly pulled back, "Wait!"

"What?" he asked, confused.

"Whose house?" she asked, "I work in the city and you hate the city. I like the country, but there's no way I am traveling that far every damned day just to get to work and—"

"Oh, for god's sake, Diane," he said, sounding completely exasperated, pulling her close and shaking her a little, "Stop thinking for _one damned minute_ and just kiss me."

She began to laugh but he cut her off with a kiss.

-o0o-

The next morning, Bethany Abbott arrived in her office to find a bouquet of wild flowers on her table. Flipping the card open, her eyebrows rose as she read the simple message in that script she would know anywhere:

_Thank you._


	4. No 823

**No. 823  
**by: raileht  
**  
****Disclaimer: **The ones you don't know are mine, the ones you do aren't.  
**Rating: **T, to be safe

**Spoilers/Timeline:** nothing specific except Kurt's here.**  
Warning: just my usual brand of crap.  
**

**Note: **Same rules apply, kiddies. Let me know you like this and I'll post another one. I think I'm not being unreasonable in asking for a response or a reaction here...and no, I am not talking about potential trolls. No flaming.

-o0o0o0o0o0o-

**No. 823: If you're going to have a one-night stand, we expect you to give up an article of clothing. Love is a battlefield. Your button-down is a casualty.**

"You owe me."

She looked up, confused, "Excuse me?"

"You," he pointed at her with his pen, "Owe me."

"I do not," she said, surprised.

The last time she owed anyone, she'd been in second grade and it was a candy cane from Tracy Miller. She'd broken hers and didn't like it so they traded. Months later, during Fourth of July Tracy's sparkles fell into the lake so Diane gave her the ones her daddy had given her. They'd been friends ever since.

"Yeah, you do," he said simply, hiding a grin that was threatening to come out. "You owe me, Lockhart."

She frowned, trying to remember and, of course, couldn't. "I honestly have no earthly idea what you're talking about."

And for a moment, she wondered if he was really crazy after all, which would have been too bad because she really did kind of like him, more than she ever expected she would.

"Think," was all he said.

He liked that look on her face, determined, yet confused and just a little curious. He thought it was cute, but something told him calling her 'cute' of all things, might just be a wager for a war he didn't want and would never be prepared for. Women, he thought, were just as bad as sleeping lions—you just _don't_ poke them for no reason.

"I really can't remember," she said, biting her bottom lip, a habit he noticed she only ever did when she was at home. She was always more guarded in the office and the fact that she wasn't guarded enough to watch every minute thing she did around him made him feel all the more happy to be around her. "You must have me confused with…someone else."

And her insecurities, things she'd never even hint of having when around people from work, she didn't mind showing them around him anymore too. He liked that because around him, she _was_ different. More comfortable maybe, or something—he didn't care, as long as she was more _her_ around him. He liked her like that and liked she didn't mind being her real self around him.

As multiple personality as that sounded, that was true. There was a difference between the woman in the suit who played well with the boys and the woman who sat curled up in bed wearing pajamas on a Tuesday night. Sure, they both still worked the same job and often brought it home, but somehow, even with papers all around, the change would still be there. It was nice.

He smiled, "You want me to say it?"

"Say what you're accusing me of owing you?" she challenged, "Yes, please."

"No," he leaned close, pushing away his own papers, ignoring that some of them fell off the edge of her bed. He pulled her glasses off the tip of her nose and put them aside, ignoring her half-hearted protests and said in a tone that would leave no room for doubt, "There _isn't_ anyone else."

"Are you sure about that?" she asked, an eyebrow arching, the lawyer version of herself showing just _a little bit_. He didn't mind—she would go away soon enough.

"Yep," he said and, like clockwork, the laugh escaped her lips easily. He would never know why that never fails to make her laugh, but he wasn't about to question it. He could make her laugh, with just _that one word_, and that was enough. Who cared why? He didn't.

She kissed him, something he noticed she liked doing just for the hell of it too, whenever they were home alone, "Now, why don't you tell me what I owe you? I'm sure I could…" she smiled wickedly, "_Negotiate_ some sort of payment plan?"

"Yeah?" he couldn't hide the grin that appeared on his face.

"Mhm," she nodded. "Now, what exactly do I owe you, Mr. McVeigh?"

He reached out, his fingers brushing against the collar of the shirt she was wearing. It was dark, much darker than the one he was currently wearing and she'd neglected to button up the first few buttons, leaving enough for him to lightly tug on. Curious, she looked down at the shirt.

"If I remember correctly," he said, leaning closer until he was close to her ear, their cheeks brushing, making her squirm slightly. "_This_ used to be mine."

"I…don't know what you're talking about," she said, sounding innocent and even though he didn't have full view of her face, he knew she had that coy look she only ever dared to wear around him, _alone_.

"Oh, I think you do," he said, breathing in her scent. She smelled like flowers and he knows it was the soap she used but what intrigued him was that it was not the common scents you'd just normally find in grocery aisles. It was sweet and exquisite, something one wouldn't expect a brass like her to wear. He liked the contrast. "From _that night_."

He doesn't have to say _which_ night he was talking about.

"Well…" she whispered, her voice dropping just a few octaves deeper. "Did you come to collect? Because I could give it back, you know."

He stopped, pulling back but not before placing a soft kiss on the side of her neck. He looked at her then at the shirt before shaking his head slowly, "Nah…"

"Hm? Are you sure about that?" she asked in that same innocent tone. "Because I _can_ imagine how _troubled_ you must have been, looking around your hotel room for your shirt like that…"

He isn't surprised she'd managed to turn this all around on him. He liked that she was clever and, yes, admittedly smarter than him. He liked a lot of things about her.

"Yep," he said and she chuckled. "I'm sure."

"I wouldn't mind, you know," she said, shrugging. "I _stole_ it, I admit. You gonna press charges?"

"Nah," he shrugged, "It's a misdemeanor at best, right?"

She chuckled, nodding, "Yes."

"So, basically I'd be suing you and, in the process, probably land myself one sleazy lawyer who'll overcharge me," he pretended to look pensive, "And in the end, I'll end up paying probably thousands of dollars for a lawsuit over…a _shirt_."

"Yep," she mimicked him and it was his turn to chuckle.

He pretended to think for a moment before snaking a hand behind her neck, fingers slipping through her hair and pulled her in for a kiss.

She smiled against his lips, "Should I be phoning _my_ lawyer now?"

"Nah," he said. "Although, I expected you'd defend yourself."

"Hm," she shrugged, "Too lazy. So…what now?"

"No, Miss Lockhart, I won't be pressing charges," he waved a hand dismissively. "You're too pretty for jail anyway."

"Oh, how magnanimous of you…" she mocked him openly, earning a laugh for her efforts.

"Aw, shucks," he pretended to play shy, making her laugh again. "It's nothing. Besides…"

He pulled back, head tilted to the side and looking her over.

"…looks better on you anyway."

She laughed _again_ and he laughed too. He'd realized a while back that they enjoyed making each other laugh _and_ that he _really_ liked hearing her laugh. He _really_ did like a _lot_ of things about her.

He pulled her in for another kiss, dropping all pretense of trying to work together. They'd been kidding themselves earlier, thinking they could work silently and separately in her bedroom together alone and _on_ her bed.

When he felt her blindly push aside the papers she'd insisted she had to read that night, it was his turn to smile against her lips, pulling her closer and tangling his fingers deeper into her dark blonde locks.

And right then he decided that maybe he should let her steal more of his shirts.


	5. No 339

**No. 339  
**by: raileht  
**  
****Disclaimer: **The ones you don't know are mine, the ones you do aren't.  
**Rating: **T, to be safe

**Spoilers/Timeline:** nothing specific except Kurt's here.**  
Warning: just my usual brand of crap.  
WARNING: I think the overload of FLUFF in this entry might just kill people who actually read this.  
**

**Note: **Same rules apply, kiddies. Let me know you like this and I'll post another one. I think I'm not being unreasonable in asking for a response or a reaction here...and no, I am not talking about potential trolls. No flaming.

-o0o0o0o0o0o-

**No. 339: We love staying in, cooking dinner or ordering pizza, and splitting a bottle of wine.**

_"Tell me a secret."_

It began with him asking one question out of the blue after a lengthy discussion about a woman's right to choose. Of course, she had steamrolled him and not just by her own points but as well as taking full advantage of his fear of setting her off and being kicked out. They ended the discussion with a win for her as he conceded by topping off her glass, no doubt in hopes that his buddy pinot noir would mellow her down a little more.

She'd given him a smile, her way of telling him that she wasn't going to kick him out _yet_.

They were enjoying the calamari he'd surprised her with when she came in from work. He'd heard about her win and decided to surprise her with dinner even though he'd promised to take her out as they had originally planned. She had her little fun with him, feigning indignation about promises being broken but he had played along and placated her by saying it was too good a night not to stay in and celebrate in private. He smiled, telling her to trust him and so, she did.

He'd already cooked and when she had her first bite, she decided he'd made a good decision about staying in and told him so.

From where she was sitting, she'd begun to notice he'd also decided this was also a good night to ply her with alcohol and make a go at uncovering her secrets. She'd give him a 'B' for effort, she mused with a smile, and decided to add a _plus_ to that when she took another bite of her dinner. The man could cook, she'd give him that.

He was such a good cook she was tempted to tell him to quit his job—she was still so against the guns—and just venture into being a chef and of course, by chef she meant, _hers_.

She'd pay him if she had to but she wouldn't tell him that—it would sound either kinky or crass or both, she wasn't sure but she wasn't about to find out. After all, she _was_ a lady.

So instead of talking about his cooking, she smiled lazily instead, pretending to be in deep thought as she considered his question before shaking her head, "I don't have any."

Damned good liar she was, but it seemed he wasn't buying it because he _actually_ snorted at that, chuckling as he ducked his head low in a way only he could and looked up at her, "If you really think I'd believe that then you probably think I'm an idiot."

"Of course not," she said dubiously, teasing him again.

"I'm offended," he declared, "But, come on, you must have one."

"I must," she nodded empathetically, spearing a piece off her plate and taking a bite.

Inwardly, she had to admit this was kind of nice, being able to kick off her shoes and have an excellent meal without fuss. She liked being pampered, especially like this and again, she was tempted to ask him to do something else, maybe something stupid like stay and never leave, but then, she wasn't that kind of woman so she would keep another nugget of thought to herself and enjoy the rest of her evening instead. He was there _now_ so who was she not to take advantage of the moment?

"A woman like you?" he smiled his own lazy smile, watching her closely. Usually, she hated being scrutinized, but with him, it seemed she could tolerate it. "I bet you have a world of secrets hidden somewhere in that pretty little head of yours."

"Pretty little head?" she echoed with a laugh, unable to hold it in when he was clearly intent on continuing their little badinage. They were doing so well, but he couldn't blame her for laughing because, honestly, it was _his_ fault.

It wasn't even that funny, but for some reason, she couldn't stop laughing at that. She chalked it up to the wine—his fault too for picking an excellent bottle _and_ spoiling her with it. Plus, for some reason, the man had this way of just making her crack up with just the slightest provocation and she was at a loss on how to combat that, not that she _really_ wanted to anyway.

He waited until she was finished, hiding behind her hand and giggling to herself while maintaining a smile of his own. On his face, she could see the thoughts in his head, what he thought of her laughing herself silly and she was pretty sure he was trying not to say what he thought of her. Normally, it would bother her, but again, it didn't. There was just _something_ about Kurt McVeigh that made her _not_ want to resort to her usual tactics.

"Okay," she said slowly, still laughing to herself and picking up her glass while biting the inside of her cheek, valiantly trying not to burst into a fit of inappropriate laughter again. There had to be something about this man because she'd never been the type to laugh for _no apparent reason_ so therefore, it had to be _him_. "…secrets, right."

"Mhm," he nodded, unbothered that the grown woman in front of him couldn't seem to control herself and her laughter in a way that would remind a casual observer of a child that could not sit still. In fact, if the small smile on his face wasn't telling enough, he seemed to be enjoying it.

She smiled and tilted her glass towards him, "You first."

"What do you wanna know?" he asked easily, picking up his own glass and taking a sip, his eyes never leaving her.

The man was a pro, she thought, watching him. He could seduce any woman with anything but he was a gentleman about it. She'd never seen him play around while they were out together, never caught him looking at someone else during a date even when she'd been so sure he'd gotten a few looks from women around them.

She wouldn't tell him, but there was even that one time where she'd decided to test him by making him wait for her during a date and he'd caught her off guard when not once did she catch him making eyes at another in her absence. She had watched women pass him by, some younger and beautiful, but not once did he show interest.

He was intelligent, handsome and nothing short of interesting. Sure, she could dress him differently—she'd seen him in a suit and she had to admit she'd entertained thoughts that would make a hooker blush while observing him in court—but the man really knew how to treat a woman. Why he wasn't married yet or even divorced, she didn't know.

And the thing was, she sort of wanted to know, but at the same time, sort of didn't want to. Jesus, she thought, how high school was that? She mentally congratulated herself for sinking in such a low. She wasn't even this high school _when_ she was _in_ high school.

Bottom line was, _this_ was a good guy and a good catch and she _had_ him, if the stupid smile on his face was evidence enough. Why she was questioning this, she didn't know either.

For some reason, a smart woman like her didn't know a lot of things that night. She blamed him again. His fault, all the way.

The only _flaw_—yes, she considered it as one—with him was that he was a Republican but even that couldn't fly too long because he wasn't one of the extremes. He was open minded and willing to listen, reasonable and not at all naïve on matters. If anything, he was just an old fashioned guy with old fashioned values. At one point or another, they'd managed to discuss certain matters where they managed to call it a draw. _That_ was something, especially for a woman like Diane Lockhart.

She had ruled out psychopath and/or killer after shamelessly getting Kalinda to check on him so she was still left hanging on a particular matter: _Why was he still single? _As far as she knew, he was an excellent guy with a stable job, a brain and a pulse. Considering the times _now_ and the number of schmucks and jerks out there, he was a _really_ good catch.

And yet, here he was in her dining room, trying to reason out with her, a "bleeding heart liberal" whose views were polar opposites with his and, since this was all in her head, she was willing she tended to drive him crazy and at times, did so on purpose. Surely, he couldn't be desperate, right? She thought. She barely had time for him, she tended to be moody, tended to be a little mean and go beyond that when provoked. And yes, in shorthand, she was well aware that she was a _bitch_.

So, what was wrong with him? Why wasn't there a woman waiting at home for him? There were others who had to be easier to deal with, she thought, so why her? She worked more hours than most people, owned a business that didn't even know how to spell 'day off' and, of course, add to that the flaws in _herself_ that she could willingly admit to (if only in her thoughts) so what was his deal?

Not that she thought she was a complete hopeless cause because she knew she _wasn't_. She was just perfectly accepting that she was incredibly flawed and stubborn, a bad mix that really meant she wasn't the most stable candidate for a life partner. She liked order, liked being in control and he like being the opposite of that. In other words, Diane knew they were night and day, polar opposites of each other so why was he putting himself through such an ordeal when he could go and find someone else who was more like him?

"Diane?"

She was shaken out of her reverie and she knew she'd been keeping quiet too long, "Oh, sorry."

"I'm that boring, huh?" he grinned a little, as if he was shy.

She shook her head, "No, just…wondering what to ask."

He smirked, "Take your time. Was just making sure you didn't wander off too far…had to pull you back."

She smiled a little and blinked lazily, trying to get back into her line of thinking, but he'd obviously succeeded in his attempt to pull her back because she couldn't get back to her thoughts now. She wasn't sure whether she was glad or not. Still, the question lingered.

"That many?" he said after a pause.

"Pardon?"

"Questions," he offered, "Got that many, can't pick any off the bat?"

"You could say that."

"Well, start with one then let's see if we can sort out the rest," he suggested kindly though he was obviously being patient with her.

She nodded, taking another sip of her drink—it _really_ was an excellent choice of wine—and watched him. He was basically handing out the ticket she needed to find an answer to a question she'd long been trying to answer for herself.

"Ever been married?" she gave herself a mental pat on the back for sounding so casual.

His eyebrows shot up and he put his glass down. She wondered if she overstepped her boundaries, but she wasn't willing to back down on this matter now that she'd put it out there already.

"Kurt?" she said after a moment, tilting her head to the side slightly to get a closer look at him. His face had become unreadable, jumping from one expression to another, faster than she could comprehend. She'd clearly taken him off guard, hooray.

"Why would you ask that?"

She gave him a shrug of one shoulder, "Just curious."

"Didn't your PI find anything? That woman who works for you, Kalinda…?"

She was too good to show him the surprise she felt at his knowing about what she'd been up to so she shrugged again as if she hadn't been taken off guard as well, "Nothing incriminating. Why? Did you expect her to find something?"

His mouth made a low curve downward and he shook his head, "No."

"You sound so sure," she mused lightly.

"Because I am."

She raised a challenging eyebrow at him, "Really."

"There just isn't anything to find," he said simply. "Why? You think I'm hiding something?"

"I'm not so sure yet," she said honestly, "Are you going to answer my question?"

He smirked and shook his head, "Do you always have your men investigated?"

She smiled dangerously with her eyes gleaming, "Only the ones I think about keeping."

And the ones that were too good to be true, she thought cynically, which _he_ was. Not that she'd tell him that.

"You're _keeping_ me?" he looked quite amused as he said that.

"Well, you can cook," she said nonchalantly, "Maybe."

"Maybe," he nodded, then shrugged, "Is that a good thing or a bad thing?"

"No one has gotten that far in a long time," she said, clearly challenging him.

"Really?" he said, chuckling a little. "Then I'm doing well then."

"That's one way of putting it," she commented lightly.

"Better than nothing," he smiled. "See, I kinda want you to keep me."

"Then you better answer," she winked at him playfully, "Might increase your odds."

"Oh, well, then what's the hold up, right?" he said with a chuckle before shrugging, leaning towards the table, hunching a little as he settled both forearms in front of them, leaning on them as he looked at her and said, "Never got around to."

"Never got around to what?" she echoed—she was tempted to add something sarcastic but she wasn't too sure that would be a good idea so she kept a lid on it. She'd behave herself and that was proof on how badly she wanted to know, despite the air of nonchalance she maintained.

"Getting married," he said simply, "But I was engaged once."

"Oh?"

"A lifetime ago and her name was Ana," he nodded. She tried to look for some sign on his face, his expressions, but got nothing. "We were engaged for a few months before she broke it off."

She tried to look for the pain she half expected to be there—men never like to be dumped, right?—but was surprised to find none. His face was open but stayed neutral. She wondered if the relationship ended _that_ amicably.

"What happened?" she asked, genuinely curious.

"She married my best friend."

"Oh, my," she said then mentally slapped herself. _Oh, my? _

"Yeah," he nodded.

"I…" she stopped then frowned and leaned forward in her seat, "You sound so…_normal_."

"Normal?" he raised his eyebrows at her.

"Shouldn't you be angry? I mean, she…" she sighed, "Are you normal?"

"I am," he laughed, "What kind of question is that, Miss Lawyer?"

"I just…" she shook her head, "How can you sound so…okay with a woman leaving you for your best friend? Other people would be angry…"

He nodded, "I was. At first, but that was years ago and I just think it'd be stupid to hold a grudge. She loved me, but she fell in love with someone else and frankly, I think that was better. I'd be angry if she married me, fell for someone else and divorced me in the end. Now _that_ would have been bad."

"But your best friend?" she scowled, "Classy."

"You can't help who you fall in love with," he said simply and for a moment, she wondered if he was talking about anyone specifically but he just shrugged and took his glass again.

She stared at him before shaking her head, "So…what happened? I mean, did they really stay together or what…?"

"They're still together," he nodded. "Had two kids, they're probably all grown up now."

"How darling," she said sarcastically. "Did you even love her? You're so…blasé about it!"

"I did," he nodded, "Of course I did, why else do you think I proposed?" He sighed, "I loved her, but I wasn't about to make her stay with me, not when she was kind enough to tell me before anything happened instead of going behind my back. It could have gone worse."

"Are you kidding?"

"I let her go," he said, "Because I had to and I wasn't about to be the guy to tie her down to something she didn't want. I'm not that kind of guy."

Silence. Then her mind began to work, this time in an insane amount of overdrive, if one had a glimpse of it at that very moment, you'd think she just lost a case and her client was being sent into the chamber the very next minute because she screwed something up.

There were so many things in her mind at that moment, all thanks to the seemingly impossible man in front of her. _Who the hell was he? _

She didn't really know what to say, which words to pick from her swirling mind and instead stared at him until her mind stopped spinning and just picked out the least insane sounding one from the bunch, "You're…you know what? _This_ is why I had you investigated."

Not as articulate as one would expect from her, but it was something, wasn't it?

"Excuse me?" and it was his turn to stare at her.

"You are _too nice_," she declared, "You are too good to be true. Do you know that?"

"No, but thanks," he frowned. "I think."

"No, really," she insisted, leaning forward so she could really look at him, "You _are_…too good, actually. I'm amazed you're still single, unless-unless you're hiding a wife or a companion somewhere or…god, I don't know. You drive me insane."

"I do?"

"Yes!"

Why was she getting frustrated? Right. The man was simply _not_ real. Or human. Or something.

"Then, I'm sorry."

Even his seemingly nonchalant apologies sounded sincere. _Goddamnit. _

"See? Right _there_!" she pointed at him almost accusingly, "See?"

"What?" he asked, trying to hold in laughter.

"You are…" she stopped, letting out a frustrated huff and simply said, "Do you have dead bodies hidden under your house?" as if she was asking what car he drove.

"_Excuse me_?" the shock was clear on his face but his eyes were dancing with laughter.

"Or do you kill dogs and animals and hang them up your garage or-or do you practice in some sort of cult—" she was speaking rapidly, her wine and the rest of her meal forgotten as her thoughts spilled out.

"Diane," he raised a calming hand towards her, placing it on her forearm that was resting on the table. "Listen."

"Okay," she nodded, "Wait. You're not going to tell me you're…the boogey man or something, right? Because I got over that fear a long time ago." She sighed, "Or that you've got the body of the Lindbergh baby hidden somewhere…"

He chuckled, his hand remaining on her, "I promise, I'm not the boogey man. I don't have dead bodies under my house, I don't kill animals, I don't even hunt—"

"Unlike Palin," she muttered but he gave her a look and she nodded, zipping her mouth immediately.

"I don't have the Lindbergh baby and I definitely am _not_ part of a cult," he said with a serious look on his face. "I'm just a regular guy and, yes, I've dated a few women. I haven't proposed to anyone else before because I haven't felt the need to, all right? There just hasn't been anyone special, that's all. Bottom line is I'm not a psycho or a closet deviant." He took a breath, "Anything else?"

She stared at him then began to nod slowly, "Okay."

"Okay?"

"Okay," she replied. "So…I won't wake up next to a horse's head on my bed one day?"

He laughed, "No and if that _is_ your _subtle_ way of asking—_no_, I am _not_ and have never been affiliated with the mafia."

She smiled, "Good."

"So, does that cover everything?" he asked.

"Yes."

"Am I just your average, boring nice guy now? Because if you want proof, I can have a few people over my house and check for dead bodies..."

She chuckled, "No."

"Or we can make a mock trial out of this," he went on, this time he was the one teasing her. "I can call a few friends, or in this case—no pun intended—witnesses for, what do you high-falutin' lawyers call it? Oh, right. Character witnesses."

"Okay, okay," she said, waving a dismissive hand at him then completely over his mouth, his mustache tickling her palm. "Enough. You've covered everything. Thank you."

She waited a few moments, both of them staring at each other, him smiling with glee at the fact that he managed to sort of wind her up and her pretending to be a little annoyed. They were getting a little too good with teasing each other and she was beginning to think that wasn't too bad.

"I'm done, okay?" she asked then he nodded, stilling grinning then she removed her hand.

"Good, glad that's out of the way," he grabbed the bottle again, topping off his glass. "Is it my turn now?"

"No," she said then shook her head, "I mean, yes, but let me just say…I'm sorry for…"

He waited, but when it was obvious she didn't know how to continue he nodded instead and added, "Calling me a psychopath?"

She bit her bottom lip, showing a small embarrassed smile, "Yes and for…acting a little crazy."

He shook his head, "It's fine…if that was your kind of crazy, it wasn't so bad. I think I've seen worst."

"It's just…" she sighed, "It's rare to find someone so..."

He waited for her to go on.

"Look," she said, waving a hand in the air as if erasing the words she'd said earlier, "I've been around the block too many times for too long to think _most_, if not all, men who are still available at this stage of their lives are…_bastards_ or, I don't know, something sinister or stupid or a bad combination of things so when I find myself…uh, stumbling across you?"

"Stumbling across me?" he echoed. "Diane, we met in your office…you weren't exactly playing three blind mice in the woods."

"Kurt, I'm serious," she said and for once, he was surprised that she actually showed a somewhat vulnerable side to that soft admonishment.

He stared at her for a moment before nodding in understanding, reaching for her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze, "If it helps any, on behalf of my gender…I'm sorry that we've got some choice bastards in our group."

She smiled a little, "That's fine…I can't say we don't have our own share of bitches in our side either, considering I'm one of—"

"Don't even finish that sentence," he said seriously. "You're not."

She let out a disbelieving laugh, "I am. You're just much too naïve to see that."

"I'm not. I know you're not," he replied. "You're a little crazy, a lot determined and passionate…nothing wrong with that."

"Ever think about joining the UN?" she said, out of the blue, "Because aside from the 'crazy' part, that was one hell of a diplomatic answer."

He grinned, "I meant it…every word."

She shook her head, "Don't say I didn't warn you."

"Wouldn't dream of it," he said and leaned back, watching her again. "Is it my turn now?"

"Uh-oh," she mumbled good naturedly as she finished her meal. "Go ahead."

She half expected him to ask the same question, but he surprised her again that night.

"Same," he said simply, "Tell me a secret."

She smiled brightly, "Why are you so intent on me having a secret?"

"Because you have them," he answered, "And I want to know something about you that only I'll know."

"Why? So you can blackmail me with it one day?" she raised a challenging eyebrow at him.

"No," he shook his head, tilting his head to the side, watching her closely, "Because I just wanna get to know you the woman who…is making me consider something I hadn't considered in a long time."

Both her eyebrows shot up this time, "Consider what?"

He shrugged, "Things."

"Like?"

"Isn't this supposed to be my turn?"

She gave him a mock glare then sighed, "Fine. A secret. Huh."

"I promise I won't use it against you," he said solemnly, "If I do, you can sue me."

She nodded, biting her bottom lip slightly while she swirled her wine in one hand and used the other one to cradle her head. After a moment, "Well, it isn't much of secret although only a few people know about it…"

He inclined his head towards her, telling her silently to go on.

She shook her head, "It's nothing, really. Just a stupid thing my brother taught me."

He raised his eyebrows at the mention of her brother but he was more interested on what she was trying to tell him. "What is it?"

"I can get out of handcuffs," she said simply, waving her wine glass slightly in a dismissive manner.

"Really?" he grinned, "Real handcuffs?"

She nodded, "Yup, real handcuffs. My brother got a pair when we were young and he would…cuff me for fun and just sit there while I try to get it off with the few things he'd leave next to me that _might_ help. He'd sit there, telling me what to do, over and over again and laugh himself into a stupor whenever I'd get frustrated."

"You learned how," he nodded, "By his playing with you."

"Eventually," she nodded, "He said someday it might come in handy."

"Has it?"

She shrugged, "Eh."

He raised his eyebrows at that, "It has, hasn't it?"

"Once or twice…"

He grinned, "I'm sure it wasn't the cops, your record doesn't show any arrests."

Her eyes widened, "You looked into my records?"

"Kalinda isn't the only one who's been busy," he conceded.

She gave him a look before rolling her eyes, "There were some…situations when I'd been handcuffed before and had to get out."

"Like what?" his smile was teasing and she could immediately guess what he was thinking.

She slapped him on the arm, "Not that!"

He roared with laughter while she shook her head, refusing to even think her cheeks were turning red. _She_ did _not_ blush. It was just getting a little warm, that's all.

"I mistakenly told a friend about my little…talent when I was in college," she said, flicking her hair off to the side. "She told a few friends and before you know it, I was waking up with my hands cuffed together like I was back home again with my brother."

He grinned, "Will you show me how?"

"Don't tell me you have handcuffs," she muttered.

He shrugged, "Just to see you do it? I'd get a pair. I know people."

She snorted, "No."

"Aw, come on," he nudged her playfully, "I'd never dated a Houdini before."

She laughed, "Shut up."

He laughed again and she watched him deciding that whatever else reason he had for not being attached, she didn't care. He was a good man and god knew she hasn't had one of those in a long time. She would enjoy it, however long they were fated to stay together.

"So, it's my turn," she said resolutely, straightening up a little.

"Do your worst," he said as he stood up, grabbing both their plates. When she made a move to get up and help, he shook his head at her.

"My, my, my," she said, watching him with a smile she couldn't help but show as she watched him in her kitchen, "Someone's being awfully nice tonight."

"Thought you could use a good night," he said over his shoulder as he placed their plates on the sink, turning to her before heading towards the refrigerator, "Desert."

"What've you got, cowboy?"

He pulled out a small tub and waved it at her, "Your pals, Ben & Jerry."

She bit her bottom lip, unable to suppress the happy little sound that passed her lips. It was a rarely known fact that her guilty pleasure was ice cream and she could count very few people from the firm who knew this information about her, let alone people from the outside.

Her love of the frozen treat was something she could easily link to her father. He used to take her out to eat ice cream every Sunday whenever he could and it would always be just the two of them. As a child, she used to think it was their little secret, but in the end, she'd realized it really wasn't and her mother and brother had known all along. She didn't mind though because she treasured every single one of those special Sundays.

"I picked strawberry," he said, placing a couple of bowls on the table and the tub between them, "They were out of blueberry."

She didn't care, as long as it was ice cream so she opened it and began to serve. When she was done, she sat back, bowl in hand and eating happily, ignoring him completely while he grinned as she ate. After a few spoonfuls, she looked up and saw him smiling again.

"What?" she asked, brow furrowing.

"Nothing," he said as he ate his own, "You just…"

"What?" she reached for a napkin and dabbed on the corners of her lips, just in case.

"No, you're clean," he said, waving a hand. "It's just that…you look happy."

"I am," she said. "I just won a case that got me an incredibly delightful settlement, I had a fabulous dinner _and_ a delicious desert. I could want for nothing more." She smiled, "Plus, I've got my very own cowboy. Let's not forget that."

"Pretty happy, aren't you?"

"Mhm," she hummed before slipping a spoonful of ice cream into her mouth again, widening her eyes slightly. "And you helped quite a lot. Thanks."

"My pleasure," he replied sincerely.

They ate in silence, with him watching her and her ignoring him yet again while she enjoyed her frozen treat. They could sit in silence just as well as they could talk together and that was a good thing because it turned out that they had a few things in common, one of them being that there were just days when they would just prefer silence to talking. It was a quirk of sorts, one they shared and that was a good thing. It was nice to find someone who could understand that particular bit about them.

But of course, someone had to break it eventually in the end, "By the way…"

She looked up, a small smile still gracing her serene features, "Yes?"

Her words were drawled and it was evidence that she was indeed happy and feeling playful.

"I just wanted to know something else."

"Hm?"

"Aside from having watched The Godfather," he began and she grinned a little wider, "Did you just tell me you were scared of the boogey man?"

She smiled and before anything else, she did something she swore she wouldn't do again.

Diane laughed.


	6. No 141

**No. 141  
**by: raileht  
**  
Disclaimer: **The ones you don't know are mine, the ones you do aren't.  
**Rating: **T, to be safe

**Spoilers/Timeline:** nothing specific except Kurt's here.**  
Warning: just my usual brand of crap.  
WARNING: _Fluff and a lot of characters possibly being out of character more so than usual. I don't have a defense...I really might just be shooting myself in the foot with this for no reason._  
**

**Note: **Same rules apply, kiddies. Let me know you like this and I'll post another one. I think I'm not being unreasonable in asking for a response or a reaction here...and no, I am not talking about potential trolls. No flaming.

**NOTE to BadFluffy:  
**_Okay, toeing the line here with the fluff...uhm, I'd lie and say I was drunk when I wrote this but you already know I don't drink and never have so what's my excuse? No idea. The idea just popped up while I was traveling in the city one day...came out of nowhere and I thought it was a good idea at the time. Now, not so sure. Uhm. Don't kill me...?_

-o0o0o0o0o0o-

**No. 141: We roll our eyes. A lot. We are not having a seizure. We are not about to faint. We just have really bad attitudes sometimes.**

"Okay, let me just point out here that you _lied _to _me_."

"Yes, I did," he nodded.

"Yes, you did, feel free to express remorse any time," she huffed, crossing her arms over her chest as she looked around her, avoiding the man on the ground, sitting there as if it was the most normal thing in the world. She thought it was ridiculous. "Oh, would you get up?"

"No," he said, shaking his head slightly, "Get down here."

"You're on the _ground_," she pointed out. "You do know that, don't you?"

"Yes," he nodded, "Now, get down here."

She stared at him then said, slowly, "Okay. I want you to say that _again_, but this time remember _who _you're talking to…and listen to yourself."

He chuckled, "Come on, quit being a pain. Just get down here."

"_I'm_ being a pain?" she said incredulously, wide eyed. "_You _are the one on the ground asking me to _join _you and…oh, yes. You _lied _to me!"

"Diane, come on," he said, trying not to laugh. She really was making a big deal about something that was a whole lot of nothing. It was cute—not that he'd tell her that. He wasn't about to risk pissing her off even more than he already had.

"No," she huffed, "I am _not _sitting on that dirty ground."

"Don't be such a priss," he teased, "Come on."

"No," she said, literally and figuratively standing her ground. "And I am _not _a _priss_."

"Okay, you're not," he conceded then added, "You're a snob."

Her mouth opened partially but no sound came out.

He grinned.

"Take that back!"

"Well, you kinda are being a snob so…no."

"You know what?" she said, clearly having had quite enough. "I'm done. I'm going inside."

She made a move to leave but he stopped her with a simple, "Diane."

"What?" she snapped.

"Come on, just humor me," he tried being serious but the stubborn look on her face stopped him.

Yes, he was a sucker when it came to this woman. She really was quite amusing, not that he'd tell her that one. There were many adjectives in his head that he would use to describe her, but half of them were better left unsaid really since he _did _value his life.

"No," she growled. "I want to go back inside. Now."

"Wow," he said, tilting his head to the side with an amused grin, "Just stomp your feet and you'll be just like my niece when she was five."

She glared down at him, "You're not funny."

"Yeah," he nodded, "And you're being childish."

"I am not!" she growled, untangling her arms and letting them fall to her sides, fists clenched tightly. "I want to go back inside," she repeated, sounding petulant.

"I stand corrected," he said simply, "_Super _childish."

She narrowed her eyes at him, "Someone's a bit cheeky today."

"Yeah, but that's all your fault," he said, "You bring out the…_cheeky _in me. Whatever the hell that means…"

"You really are _not _funny," she said dryly. "And may I remind you—you lied to me, you really should be groveling right now."

He chuckled, "Yeah, but fighting's more fun."

"I'll remember you said that," she said, clearly unamused.

"Diane," he said seriously as he pushed himself off the ground, patting his jeans to shake off the dust.

She didn't say anything though she did wrinkle her nose to show her displeasure.

He stood in front of her, their height almost matching as she stood there in her flats, cashmere sweater and yoga pants. She'd been lounging when he had pulled her out of bed and out to the front of his house where he'd pulled her car out and left it there.

When he reached for her, she made a move to step away, wrinkling her nose at him, but he shook his head slightly at her, his face serious and remained silent. Relenting, she sighed and stood still as he let his fingers rest on her shoulders, sliding them down to her arms then pulled her close when he reached her elbows. When she was close enough, they stood there, staring at each other.

Their eyes met, hers still showing signs of stubborn resistance while his remained serious, "I need you to do this," he said calmly.

"Why?" she asked, setting her jaw as she readied herself to argue her ground.

"Because…" he sighed, shaking his head slightly. "Because I just do, can't we just leave it at that?"

"No," she replied, "Not when you're making me do _this_."

"I am not asking you to shoot someone or anything extreme—this is actually a _very _normal thing to do," he reasoned. "I just need you to do this, okay? For me?"

"Why?" she groused. "Can't we just stay in bed? It's still early and I'm a little cold staying out here."

Her arms moved to close tighter around her body as if to emphasize her point and on a normal day, he would do anything to keep her warm, but today was different. He wasn't buying into that, not when there was something important he needed her to do.

"You'll live," he said simply. "Just…look, I don't like the thought of you being stranded out in the middle of nowhere alone at night, okay? I don't like it."

"And _this _is your solution?" she said, sounding dubious.

"Yeah," he drawled.

"You know, I could just call someone," she said. "They do have people for that _and _it _has _happened to me before. They came and helped and it was quick."

"No," he shook his head. "And the fact that it _has _happened before doesn't help your case, lawyer."

"But—" she looked at the ground with distaste. "It's…dirty."

"And again, you'll live," he said simply, "Now, please…just humor me, okay? I really don't like the idea of you sitting in your car in the middle of the night alone."

"I could just call you, you know," she teased slightly, her mood lifting somewhat now that she had some sort of idea for this latest stunt.

"And what? Wait until I get out of here and go all the way to god knows where to get you?"

"Mhm," she nodded, "And don't deny it—you'd do it."

"Yes, I would," he nodded with a grin, "But I won't always be around, Diane. I need to know you'll be fine with or without me."

"I've been relatively single _and _living alone for the better part of my life," she pointed out, "And I'd like to think I've done more than well _alone _so, really. I'm fine."

"No, not under my watch, princess," he said, pinching her lightly on the side, only to receive a smack. He laughed, "Come on, do this for me and…we'll go out riding."

She gave him a look. He'd discovered she liked riding a few months before and had taken a particular shining to one of his horses. In his mind, he'd already given it to her, but they were yet to make it official. Not that it mattered though, not when she was there most of the weekends when she was off already and the horse seemed to have chosen her as her owner as well.

"That's how you negotiate?" she said, grinning slightly. "No sale—whether I do this or not, we're going out riding anyway."

"Fine," he said then thought for a moment, "Dinner at that Italian place you love so much."

"Which one?" she asked, curious.

"That stuffy one with the dress code and that annoying gay waiter who keeps kissing you ass every time we come in."

She let out a snort then laughed, throwing her head back, "Venti's?"

"Yeah," he rolled his eyes, "That one."

She smiled a little, "Venti's…you _really _want me to do this, don't you?"

He nodded, pulling her close and placing a soft kiss against her hair, "I really do."

It was her turn to roll her eyes, "Fine."

-o0o-

"No."

"Diane."

"I said no!"

"Then how the hell are you suppose to do this?" he asked, raising an eyebrow at her.

"I just had my nails—"

"You are _such _a girl," he muttered.

"That's because I _am_," she snorted. "Or have you suddenly forgotten?"

"Diane, come _on_," he insisted. "I wouldn't make you if it wasn't important, but it _is_."

"Fine!"

"Now…put your hand under _there_…"

"Under where…?"

"You went to Yale, Lockhart," he almost growled. "This is _not _rocket science! Put that Ivy League education to use!"

"Well they didn't exactly teach us how to change tires in law school!" she retorted, "Sorry if I was too busy remembering laws and, oh, I don't know—how to _be _a lawyer?"

"Just grab the jack!"

"The what?"

"Oh, for god's sake…"

-o0o-

It didn't take long for another tantrum.

"Caps, nuts, jacks!" she growled. "NONE of them sound like car parts! Those sound like something you'd pick off a check list for Super Bowl Sunday."

He stared at her, "Do you even _watch _Super Bowl?"

"Of course not!"

"And yet another thing to teach you..."

"Yeah, in your dreams—I_ don't_do football. Or any sport."

"What about tennis?"

"That's an exception."

"How?"

"I don't mind playing it," she replied. "And don't even try denying you like playing because you do."

"Nah," he shrugged. "I just like seeing you in a short skirt."

She stared at him with a surprised smile, "Wow. That's supposed to be a compliment, right?"

"Yes, a badly delivered one," he smiled then shook his head, "Now, where were we?"

"The caps."

He snorted, "Nuts."

"Damn!"

-o0o-

"You're a bad student."

"You're a bad teacher."

"I love you too."

"Yeah, well, I hate you."

-o0o-

"I am _not _touching those things…"

"Just pick them off, Diane."

"No. They are _filthy_."

"No, they're not."

"Yes, they are. I own this car—I _know _where it's been."

She grabbed something from his tool box and moved before he could stop her.

"Diane!"

"What? They fell off, didn't they?"

"I said pick them off _not _poke them out!"

"What?" she asked, honestly wondering what she'd done wrong as she tossed the screw driver back into the box. "At least I got them out!"

"Yeah, well, good job making it fall and roll under the car," he muttered. "Who's gonna crawl under the car to get it?"

She looked at him then bent down at the waist slightly, her eyes spotting the small object under hiding just under the car. She wrinkled her nose then straightened up, making sure not to move past the yoga mat he'd placed on the ground for her to sit on. She looked at him.

"You."

He gave a derisive laugh, "Yeah, _right_."

-o0o-

"You made me break a nail!"

"You made me _crawl _under the car—we're even."

"Nails need time to grow and they _hurt_," she sniffed. "Your shirts on the other hand—they need to _go_. I did you a favor."

"Really? That why you keep wearing my clothes?"

-o0o-

"Put it under the car."

"Why?"

"Because it's safer that way," he said simply.

"How?" she asked skeptically.

"How?" he echoed, "_If _–and this is a _big _if—the jack fails, you'll have lesser chances of the car falling on you if the tire'll be there to catch it first."

Diane stared at him for a moment before making a move to stand, "Okay. I'm out."

"_What_?" he asked, pulling her down just as she'd began to move. She plopped back down on the ground and glared at him.

"I am _not _about to have a car fall on me!" she cried, "I've dialed AAA before, I can do that again. Thank you very much!"

"No way, you are doing this, Diane," he said sternly, "I said it was a _big _if and trust me, the chances of that happening to you are pretty slim."

"Oh, yeah?"

"Yeah," he replied. "Your perfectly fine and already tested jack has _never _been used. What are the chances that it'll break the first time you use it?"

"I don't know…karma?"

"Diane."

"But it's heavy!" she complained, pointing at the tire with disdain. "Can't I just…roll it away?"

"And then what, roll it back and throw it in the back of your car?"

She stopped, biting her bottom lip to prevent a devious little smile from forming. And of course, she failed and the smile showed. He didn't have to ask.

He smirked, "You are _not _leaving the old tire on the side of the road."

"It's too heavy to carry!"

"You'll do fine, just put the old one under the car already," he explained.

"Are you _not _going to help me?" she huffed.

"No," he shook his head. "I'm giving you firsthand experience."

"What?" she said incredulously, "What am I, in boot camp?"

He smirked, "No."

"Then what?"

"You're learning."

"I can learn without lobbing objects when _you _are around," she said, rolling her eyes. "You carry it—I'll learn by watching you _how _to carry it."

"Nice try."

"Oh, for god's sake!" she threw her hands up, "I am _not _carrying that-that _thing_!"

"Diane, think about this," he said, leaning back, his hands settling behind him on the asphalt as he looked at her, "Either you do this _or _we stay out here all day. It's almost lunch."

They stared at each other and for what seemed like the thousandth time that morning alone, they were at an impasse once again. The silence stretched, neither of them willing to break first so soon.

Diane was first to move, pushing herself off the mat, glaring at him. "You are a mean person, I hate you and you are _so _going to regret this."

He laughed when she went for the tire, but it was interrupted when he felt a tap on the back of his head.

"Hey! That's assault!"

"It was justified!"

-o0o-

"It is not _the thing_," he sighed. "It's called a wrench."

"A what?"

He rolled his eyes, "You memorized the goddamned book on the laws of Chicago, but you can't remember 'lug wrench'?"

"I have selective memory," she said simply.

"Then _make _your memory _select _to remember_ the thing_."

"Why?" she asked, raising an eyebrow, completely ignoring how he was mocking her. "I'm just going to grab it from the back of my trunk and pull it out—I don't have to call on it or anything so why bother remembering the name?"

"Diane…"

"I mean, it's not as if we're going to be having a happy little conversation while I'm using it, am I?"

"You can't just call _all of them_'the thing'."

"Okay, because that'll make them feel like they're losing their identity, right?"

"Okay, now _you _are just being mean."

She blinked innocently, "What?"

"You're too smart, you know that?"

She smiled, "Yeah, I think I've been called evil genius at some point."

"Ah, so do modest," he said sarcastically.

"Thank you," she gave him an angelic smile.

"Now, the _wrench_."

She stared at him for a moment before jumping slightly, "Oh! _The thing_!"

-o0o-

"I'm tired."

"You're not," he said, crouched behind her. "Just turn it clockwise and tighten it."

"It's hard," she mumbled.

"It's not," he said, placing a hand on her shoulder. "Just turn it right there—"

He reached out, helping her and she couldn't the smile that started to form on her lips. Turning the wrench with his help, she had to bite the inside of her lip to stop the laugh that was threatening to come out. He must have felt her because he stopped, looking at her from the side.

"What's funny?"

"Nothing," she said, wiping the smile from her face and rolling her eyes for good measure.

He snickered, "You know, for a lawyer, you're a terrible liar."

"I'm not," she said simply, "I just save the best lies for...when it's needed."

"Are you saying you lie in court?" he questioned.

"No," she said, looking at him at the corner of her eye, "I lie when I have to—I never said anything about court. _You _are assuming."

He nodded, "Touché."

"You just spoke French," she pointed out. "Cowboys don't speak French."

"'Course they do," he said as they both resumed tightening the lug nuts.

She smiled, "Can you really speak French?"

"Eh," he shrugged. "Finish changing this tire and we'll see."

Diane rolled her eyes, "You can be an absolute jerk, you know that?"

"Yep."

-o0o-

Kurt stood by the door, plate in hand and watched her, his head tilted to the side. She was on the bed reading with her back against the headboard, cushioned by pillows and a towel on her head, wrapped snugly in one of his dark blue bathrobes.

"You hungry?" he asked, hiding the smile that wanted to appear as she ignored him.

They'd finished changing the tire, but she'd left in a huff right after, leaving him to take care of the rest as she stomped her way back into the house. And to show just how angry she was, she slammed the front door loud enough for him to hear the rattling sound that followed the loud slam.

She'd been sulking ever since, slipping into the bathroom and jumping into the bath. She stayed there for half an hour while he stayed on the first floor of the house, cooking lunch and regaling himself with the surprising child-like ways she reacted through the whole 'lesson'.

He wouldn't tell her right then, but she was damn straight amusing when she was huffing and pouting like a child. She obviously hated being told what to do and being made to do menial tasks she was used to pawning off to others, but this had been important. On anyone else, he would have given up, but he appreciated the fact that she humored him until the end, despite the tantrums and sniping. She was adorable when she was throwing mini-fits and this one had been a keeper.

A part of him almost wished he'd been brave enough to keep a camera to catch the whole thing, if only to prove to naysayers later that Diane Lockhart could not possibly know how to change a tire.

Shaking his head slightly, he stepped into the room, watching her as she pretended not to notice him when he was absolutely sure she was watching his every move. He sat on the edge of the bed, placing the plate of food on the bedside table and reaching for her book. She made a move to put it out of his reach, but he was faster, snatching it then tossed it to the other end of the bed, far enough that she wouldn't be able to reach it.

Looking beyond ruffled, she glared at him and scoffed, "What?"

"I'm sorry," he said simply. "You didn't want to do it, I know, but you had to. I'm sorry it wasn't much fun and it was dirty, but I'm not sorry for making you do it."

The glared stayed so he sighed deeply and leaned forward, planting his hand on the other side of her over her stomach, effectively trapping her just in case she felt like moving away from him again. He leaned close so their eyes could meet, face close together.

"I needed you to do this, okay?" he began. "You're stubborn and you insist you're okay on your own, but there are things that…" he stopped, bending his head slightly before looking at her again, "I'm just not comfortable imagining you stuck in the middle of the road _at night_ and _alone_, waiting for help, okay? It's dangerous and…if _anything _happened to you and I wasn't there—look, I don't want to even think about it, all right?"

He looked down, wondering if he was conveying his thoughts properly. He didn't notice the glare disappear or the small smile that took its place. He waited, wondering if she was going to say anything and was, instead, surprised by a hand landing on his cheek softly. He looked up and saw her, smiling.

"You worry too much," she said simply. "And I love you for it, but you can't do this to yourself. I've been fine for years and that won't change just because I have a big strong chauvinistic cowboy at my beck and call."

"We're together, aren't we?" he asked, curious if she would really answer.

They'd said the proverbial three letter words and all that came with it, but if there was one thing they'd yet to do, it was put a label on what exactly they were. For some reason, she found telling him she cared and loved him easier than saying _what _they were.

"Yes, we are," she nodded and left it at that.

"So that means you're _not _alone anymore," he began, "But it also gives _me _the right to worry about you and, lady, face it. I worry about _you _a _lot _because you are stubborn, pig headed and you won't let _anyone _take care of your because you're so hell bent on proving just how independent you are."

Her hand fell as she rolled her eyes, "Way to ruin a moment."

"I'm sorry, but I had to," he said, inching closer to her with a serious expression on his face. "This is reality, Diane, and believe it or not—you are _not _invincible and there are bastards out there who don't even need a reason to hurt people so forgive me if I'm not about to let you go on and play power woman without at least changing a few things."

He stopped, surprised at how he'd let himself go like that. He wasn't angry with her, but he was angry at what _could _happen to her if she kept on going without at least taking precautions. It was almost scary how he'd come to care about her so deeply in such a little time, but he wasn't about to question it. He'd found someone he could imagine being with for a long, long time and he didn't even care at how different they were or how stubborn she was.

If anything, he was ready to take her on, no matter where or on what matter, as long as she stayed and he could keep her safe. It made it harder when she was someone who didn't like to be mollycoddled but he didn't mind. She knew reason and tended to see it, given enough time, so that was worth accounting for. She fought him at every turn of course, but he would be lying if he said he didn't like the challenge.

He wasn't a genius, but he was smart enough to know when he had a good thing. He wasn't going to do something stupid and just let it slip away.

"I'm sorry," she said quietly and he couldn't stop himself from looking at her suddenly with a shocked look on his face. "I am," she said seriously, just in case he didn't believe her. "I'm sorry for being a…_pain _this morning. I understand why you insisted on the whole thing, but I'm sorry I didn't take into account how important it was to you."

"That's okay," he said, leaning forward to kiss her softly. "You were a mean, lousy, _whiny _student, but you finished the whole thing and actually learned. That's something."

She smiled, shaking her head slightly with a chuckle, "You pulled me out of bed and asked me to sit on the ground…I thought it was a fair trade."

He chuckled, "Sounds about right."

"So, what did you bring me?" she asked, glancing at the plate he'd left sitting on the bedside table.

"Lunch," he grinned, "And for the record—I _didn_'t lie to you."

Diane had been reaching for the plate when he said that. She stopped at turned to him, "Yes, you did."

"No, I didn't."

"Yes, you did!" she insisted, the plate forgotten once again. "You _promised _me if I came over I can sleep in as long as I want _and _have a relaxing weekend. For your information—waking up at _seven in the morning_ is _not _sleeping in as late as I want _and _changing a tire the whole morning is not a relaxing task at all!"

"Yeah, but it's only Saturday," he said with a chuckle, "I'll still take you out riding _and _we have the whole afternoon, night and Sunday together. That's _still _a weekend."

"You said _whole_," she pointed out, raising a finger at him.

"I never said _whole_, I said _weekend_," he rebutted. "And for your information, princess, it's still the weekend, see?"

"Don't you _ever _call me that again," she glared at him but it quickly disappeared as a laugh escaped her lips and she leaned forward, reached for him and kissed him. "And you're still taking me to Venti's."

He smiled, "It's a date."


End file.
